


Choose

by SkinSlave



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band), Slipknot (Band), Type O Negative (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM Scene, Cock & Ball Torture, Impact Play, Knotting, Multi, Not Beta Read, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22336111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkinSlave/pseuds/SkinSlave
Summary: A good-natured thought experiment leads a bickering trio to a trial by fire.TW: monsters, no-win situation, taking turns, couch stains.
Relationships: Marilyn Manson/Jim Root/Peter Steele
Comments: 15
Kudos: 29
Collections: Love Is Stored In The Knot





	Choose

"That's a stupid question," Marilyn huffed, shoving a French fry into his mouth.

"So give us a stupid answer."

He sighed heavily and glared at Peter. His New York accent was endearing. His stubbornness, less so.

"What, are you two plotting? Gonna turn me in my sleep or something?"

"Of course not," Jim said. "It's just a game. Come on."

"Fine. Fuck." Marilyn took a long drink, obviously drawing it out. "If I had to be turned by one of you… I guess… Peter."

Jim whined and leaned back in his chair. Peter threw a piece of lettuce at him.

"Told you," he shrugged. "He loves me more."

"What? I… No, I don't. Could you guys be any less mature? I'd just-"

"Rather be a vampire," Peter interjected. "Of course you would. Vampires are dark and glamorous."

"Then why aren't you?" Jim laughed.

"At least I don't think fleas are an STD."

"I should've ordered the steak, Dracula."

"How could you eat it? You can't touch the silverware."

Jim kicked under the table and Peter kicked back. Marilyn put a hand on each of them, gripping their forearms threateningly. They both looked sheepish.

"Boys… if you embarrass me in this restaurant, we will not be playing games before bed."

Appealing to their shared love of extracurriculars seemed to work. They finished their meal without making a scene. The car ride home was quiet. 

But when Marilyn ducked into the restroom, he could hear them through the door. Their tone made it clear that they were bickering. He washed his hands and made a beeline for the living room.

"Unless you're arguing over who's gonna make me cum tonight, please shut the fuck up."

Peter was sitting on the wide couch, shirt in hand. Jim leaned against a low dividing wall. His messy hair hung over one eye. They looked like the covers of two very different romance novels.

"Actually," Jim grinned, "we were thinking of a way to settle the matter. How would you like to be collared tonight?"

The thought made him twitch. He tried to play it cool, but his nod was overly enthusiastic. Peter hummed in satisfaction.

"Go on, then."

Marilyn walked into his bedroom and began to strip down. His hands shook a little. They'd played a little as a group, but never while he was collared. It was a bridge he'd been eyeing curiously. He hadn't asked to cross it. Apparently, he didn't need to.

Collar in hand, Marilyn reported to the living room. He was beautifully intricate, inked and scarred. As he knelt in front of Jim, his energy spiked. He dripped authority, even on his knees.

But as soon as the buckle clicked, he was a different animal. Jim cupped his cheek and he nuzzled the broad hand. He was soft, pliant.

"We flipped a coin," Jim said, mouthing a cigarette from his pack. "He gets you first. But babe…"

He bent down, fisting that hand in Marilyn's hair. His whisper was hot.

"If you cum for him, I'll know you love him more. Understand?"

He didn't answer as much as whimper. Jim picked up a kitchen timer and wound it up. It began to tick loudly.

As he crawled to the couch, a very specific anxiety bloomed in his gut. He lifted his eyes toward Peter, still sitting on the couch.

"Poor thing," he pouted in his perfect stage voice. "Come here. Let me help."

Marilyn climbed into his lap. His arms were thick, strong, and cold to the touch. He wrapped them around him and held him close. He traced his fingers over Marilyn's pouty lips. They tripped down his chin and brushed over one nipple. Marilyn tensed and bit his lip.

"Shhhhhh, come here, pet." He gently moved Marilyn's body until he was straddling his lap. "There you go. Beautiful boy."

He kissed breathlessly, as though Marilyn were the most beautiful creature imaginable. His hands stroked the canvas of Marilyn's back, waking up every nerve. He laid a line of delicate kisses along his jaw and sucked at the hollow just above the collar.

Marilyn squirmed. He was already stiffening against Peter's firm stomach. The gentleness of his touch was frost beneath his skin. He braced himself against the broad chest that held him and rocked his hips just a little.

The harsh ring of the timer nearly made him jump out of his skin. Peter pulled him in, so strangely cool.

"It's his turn, beautiful," he purred. "You know, if you love him more, it's ok. You can cum for him. I'll understand."

Marilyn's chest shuddered as he tried to control his breath. Something inside ached. There were only two outcomes, and he hated both. But he didn't know how to make it stop. A fist in his hair brought the racing thoughts to a screeching halt.

"No stealing time, upyr. A deal's a deal."

Jim let Marilyn maneuver carefully off of Peter's lap. The ticking timer fell onto the couch. With his hands tight on Marilyn's shoulders, Jim walked him backwards and stuck his tongue down his throat. When they hit the wall, he pulled back.

"Don't worry, kitty," Jim panted, grinding his jeans painfully into Marilyn's erection. "I know what you need."

Marilyn sobbed. His face twisted and he clung to Jim's chest. The denim scratched in such a rich, delicious way. A hand closed around his throat, a threat. Jim's voice was rough and low.

"I'm gonna take good care of you."

He could feel Jim's cock growing. He wanted to drop to his knees, to please him, to have some relief from the harsh stimulation. But Jim held him still. He bit Marilyn's lips and ear. The change was coming. They could all smell it.

The alarm went off. Jim almost seemed angry as he backed off. Peter swept in immediately. He picked Marilyn up and carried him to the couch.

"Sweet, precious boy," he murmured. "No tears, now."

Peter's kisses were balm for the burn. He covered his face and chest in them, then moved lower. Marilyn gasped and grabbed onto the armrest at the first careful caresses of his cock. It was red and sensitive.

"Shhhhhhh."

His long, thick tongue slid up the underside and over the head. He engulfed it, lukewarm and wet. Soft moans of pleasure vibrated through it. Marilyn fought to keep his hips still.

As he watched Peter's dark head Bob, a movement in the periphery caught his attention. Jim didn't say anything. He just watched, a reminder that an orgasm would be a betrayal.

"Wait," he begged as it built fast. "Please."

Peter let him go with a wet pop, just in time, and crawled up his body. His weight was nearly unbearable.

"You're mine. My precious thing. Mine to love."

His hand stroked down Marilyn's ribs and he kissed him passionately. His teeth were more prominent, an even surer sign of his arousal than the bulge pressed into Marilyn's thigh.

The timer went off and Peter was gone, leaving Marilyn swimming in a foggy high. Strong hands pulled him up and over the opposite armrest. The flip was disorienting.

Jim's bare hand came down hard and broke the fog. Marilyn cried out at the shock. The quick, sharp spanking was over in a moment but the throbbing pain stayed. Jim took him by the hair and lifted, sitting him back on his heels. Their foreheads pressed together.

"Good kitty, holding it for me. I bet you're wound so tight."

He moved Marilyn by his hair until he faced the back of the couch. The buckle of his belt seemed to echo. The leather strap caressed his reddened ass and the hollow of his lower back.

"Gonna tenderize this meat, kitty."

The crack of the belt as it licked Marilyn's shoulder was perfect. He tensed and melted, grazing the fabric of the couch with the underside of his cock. Jim knew exactly how hard to hit and where to land each blow. The sparking ache of impending orgasm returned too quickly. His squeals became words. "Please" and "no" meant nothing to Jim.

He suddenly became aware of Peter, leaning on the couch, his nose just inches from Marilyn's. He looked sad. He was waiting to see if his darling could prove his love. His tiny, passive-aggressive pout hurt worse than the belt.

The timer went off and Marilyn nearly choked on his relief. His cock pulsed against the couch, leaving a wide stain of precum. Peter just wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pressed his cool, nude body against the brutalized skin.

"You're so strong, my sweet," he breathed. "Relax. Let me."

He must have gotten the lube from his bedroom while Jim took his turn. It was expensive, delicate, rose water with a hint of fresh strawberries. The scent settled over them like a perfume. Then two slick fingers found Marilyn's entrance.

"So sweet and beautiful," Peter said over Marilyn's breathy moan. "So needy. I just want to devour you."

He worked slowly, massaging and pressing, urging Marilyn to open for him. At the same time, his lips found his most vulnerable places. Each tender kiss to his neck and shoulders soothed and grounded him. His cock twitched as one finger finally sank in.

"Mmmmm, please…"

He didn't know what he was asking for, but Peter did. He worked another finger in, scratching his shoulder with his fangs. It was agonizingly slow. Peter's tongue, the warmest part of him, followed his teeth. He turned his hand and pressed gently into that perfect spot.

"No, no, no," Marilyn breathed, wriggling. "Please, I can't…"

"But you love me."

"I do love you," he mouthed, unsure if he'd made any noise or not. 

He was concentrating on his cock, drooling onto the couch. He was begging it to hold off. Each movement of the fingers inside of him brought him closer. He forced his eyes to open, hoping to find some distraction.

Instead, he saw Jim, standing to the side, working his cock with one hand. He was halfway through the change, furred and fanged and panting, but with his own face, his own eyes. Those eyes were focused intently.

Rather than helping, the sight of Jim breaking free made it worse. He wanted to be beneath him, frightened, taken. But Peter and his luscious kisses, his restraint, his power dressed in adoration… The contrast tore at him and tears ran down his cheeks.

He didn't hear the buzzer, but he felt Peter's fingers disappear. The emptiness made him feel weak. Jim took advantage, jerking his hips out for easier access.

"Here, kitty, kitty," he taunted. "You're gonna love what I got for you."

The first push was mercifully gradual, and well-lubricated. The rose water clashed with the feral heat behind him. As Jim seated his cock, Marilyn moaned loudly. He hadn't gotten used to the length. He didn't want to.

Jim planted his hands on either side of Marilyn's head. He began to thrust, harder than he had to. The growls in Marilyn's ear dropped an octave. He could see Jim's hands changing. Long claws gripped the couch. The rust-colored fur grew shaggier. He felt small. Trapped.

Jim popped his jaws next to his ear. It was not unlike the cocking of a gun. Although a gun wouldn't have drooled over his shoulder with ferocious need.

Through the shivering fear, Marilyn felt the base of his cock begin to swell. Jim's knot pried its way out, then sank back in, crushing his prostate. Marilyn moaned loudly. After several strokes, it was too wide to make it back out. Instead, Jim focused on pushing it in as deeply as it would go.

A sudden panic set in. He was going to cum. He couldn't stop. He reached out blindly and called for Peter, babbled some kind of apology. Peter sat next to him on the couch and took his outstretched hand. He traced the prominent veins in his wrist with a fingernail.

As Peter sank his teeth into Marilyn's wrist, Jim began to cum. It was an insane sensation, being drained by one and filled by the other. Jim's short, shuddering thrusts milked his orgasm from him. His cock bobbed in midair and released.

Peter caught some of the spray in his hand. He brought it back to his own sizeable cock. Moaning into Marilyn's wrist, he brought himself off, spreading his cum across his stomach.

Marilyn's orgasm subsided, but Jim was still going. He was still, but wedged inside and pouring more cum into his conquest's stomach. There was nothing to do but to hold still. The pressure almost made him nauseous.

Or maybe that was Peter, gulping down another mouthful of blood. Sated, he began to lick the wound closed. His doting demeanor returned and he caressed Marilyn's cheek.

"It's ok, angel. Deep breaths."

Jim steadily lost the wolf and his knot shrank until it popped free. He stumbled backward and braced against the wall. Marilyn crumpled. Peter removed his collar and looked him over as he always did.

"My god," he said softly. "You're… so open... And pouring cum. I'm…"

"Jealous?" Jim laughed.

"Impressed, actually. But the most important thing right now is taking care of our beloved."

Jim nodded. He staggered down the hall and started running a warm bath. Peter carried Marilyn in and sat with him. Jim took over the kitchen.

"Come here," Marilyn smiled drowsily. "You've got a little me on your face."

Peter leaned in and let him thumb the blood from the corner of his mouth. Marilyn's smile faded. His forehead bunched.

"This was just a game, right? I mean, you don't think that…"

"Of course not. We know how you feel. But it was unbelievably hot to watch you try to prove it."

Jim knocked on the open door. He held up a small plate with a grilled cheese and a pickle.

"Blood sugar?"

"Yeah."

Marilyn sat up and took the plate. It wasn't weird for them to watch him eat. It was nice. He zoned out for a minute while they quietly discussed the anatomical effects of lycanthropy. When he'd finished, he handed his plate to Jim.

"There's just one question left," Jim sighed, standing up. "Why did Mar choose vampirism in our little thought experiment?"

Peter glared up at him, but Marilyn just laughed. He leaned back into the water and relaxed.

"It's not that deep, dude. I just hate to shave."


End file.
